


Malfoy's Little Problem

by elenawrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mild Blood, Werewolf Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenawrites/pseuds/elenawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of becoming a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy became a werewolf. Potter finds him after a bad full moon. Written for a prompt from Anonymous on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfoy's Little Problem

_Oh, fuck._

Potter. It was bloody Potter, of all people, that would find Draco like this. Cold and scarred and weak, entering the castle with a pain in his side he feared Pomfrey would question further than she normally did. 

Potter, oblivious as always, was nearing the tree Draco was pressed against as he tried to hide. Draco held a hand to his torso, feeling something warm seeping through his thin shirt. So he had scratched himself again. 

_No, don’t come this way, you-_

“Malfoy?”

_Shit!_

Potter stopped a few feet from Draco, the light from his wand surely illuminating Draco’s dreadful state. 

“Malfoy! What the hell are-”

Potter stopped. His eyes grew wider as he looked Draco up and down, noticing his stained shirt and shredded skin. In any other circumstance, Draco would’ve taken pride in rendering Potter speechless but now-

“What happened to you?” Potter said, quieter than before. “Malfoy, did something-”

“Shut it,” said Draco. His teeth were gritted as he struggled to hold himself up; his scratch was growing more painful…

“You’re hurt, you shut it.” Potter looked slightly annoyed now, but it didn’t stop him from stepping closer and lowering his wand. 

“What happened?” He asked again, losing his annoyance. 

“Something. Nothing. I don’t need help from- _ah.”_ Draco shut his eyes from the pain; he should’ve been in the hospital wing _now._

Draco felt a hand skim over his own and opened his eyes to see Potter right in front of him, face clouded with concern. 

“Move,” Potter said quietly. “Let me see.”

“No, you’ll-”

“Malfoy, you need help.”

They locked eyes, Draco’s resolve melting a bit when he noticed the way Potter looked at him, hand covering his own on his side. 

“J-Just be careful.” Draco lifted his and Potter’s hands away, revealing a dark stain just below his waist. 

“Merlin,” Potter whispered, training the light from his wand on the wound. “How the hell did you get this?“ 

“None- _agh_ \- of your fucking business.”

Draco tried to relax his face, knowing that his grimace was giving everything away. He just needed Potter to leave, he just needed to go up to the hospital-

“Fine. My business or not,” Draco stiffened slightly as Potter’s hand curled around his hips, careful not to touch his injury, “I’m not leaving you here alone."  

"Excuse me?”

“Hospital wing, Malfoy. Don’t think you were going back to the dorms like this.”  
This was not what Draco had planned. He hadn’t meant for Potter to escort him to the hospital, he’d just wanted him to _leave_.

“I’m not stupid,” said Draco. “But why do you believe I need your _assistance,_ Potter? I know perfectly well where the- the hospital is." 

Potter shot Draco a pointed look, motioning with his free hand at the wound. "Really?”

“Oh, _shut up!”_ But Draco reluctantly slipped his arm around Potter’s waist, leaning on him while pressing his opposite hand to his side. 

They walked in silence for a few moments, the light from the full moon and Potter’s wand leading them up to the school. 

Potter stopped suddenly and cleared his throat. “Malfoy-”

“I told you, it’s none of your-”

“How long?”

Draco stared at him. _What kind of question…?_

“How long what? How long have you had a hero complex?”

Potter didn’t react. Instead he gazed up at the moon, then looked back at Draco, raising an eyebrow.

“I- I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Potter, but I am most definitely not-”

_“How. Long?_ ”

Draco was about to start spluttering again, accuse Potter of making false assumptions, but then he looked at Potter. _Really_ looked _._

Potter’s arm was still wrapped around him, holding as tight as he had when they started walking. Potter’s hand had a smear of blood on the back, and surely his palm was worse. 

Potter’s face didn’t show any signs of disgust. Nor of judgement, or even pity, which Draco appreciated most. Potter only looked determined, his eyes boring into Draco’s with the weight of the question. 

And then Draco broke. 

“Three years.”

Potter sighed. He looked forward again and they took another step. 

“So… Sixth year, then,” he said.

Draco nodded. “Pretty shit year, if I’m being honest,” he said, trying to sound light and failing when his voice broke in the middle of the sentence. 

“I, um… Yeah." 

"Articulate.”

Potter sighed and stopped them again. “Who else knows?" 

"Mother and Father. Pansy.” Draco paused for a moment, thinking. _Severus knew._ “Yeah, that’s it.”

Potter’s mouth nearly fell open. “And not _Pomfrey?”_

Draco shook his head. “Father didn’t want anyone knowing. It’d get in the press. Ruin us. If Pomfrey knew, McGonagall would know, and then Slughorn, and then… It’d be everywhere." 

Potter just stared. "You’re going to get yourself killed,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re going to be out here alone, and no one inside will know, and-”

“Pansy knows. You know.”

“Except me and Parkinson, then, but none of the adults will know, and you’ll get hurt-”

“I won’t get hurt, Potter, I’ve been doing this for-”

“Look at you tonight!” Potter nearly shouted. “Hiding behind a tree in the dead of night, with a scratch God knows how deep in your side, insisting you can make it up to the castle alone!”

Maybe Draco had been wrong. Maybe there was pity in Potter’s appearance, and he’d missed it in his hope that Potter would be different. 

“Don’t you dare start to pity me, Potter-”

“Frankly, Malfoy, I think you’re a right git and you’ve been an arsehole to me for years, but that doesn’t mean I think you deserve this.”

Draco was silent. 

“You’re in danger because of a part of yourself you can’t control.” Potter spoke softly now. “And you don’t deserve it. But I’m not going to look at you like you’re broken. You’re Malfoy. You’ll make my life hellish whether you’re a werewolf or not.”

Draco winced at the word, not used to hearing it aloud, but he relaxed a bit when he looked up and noticed a small smile on Potter’s face. 

“Well,” he said finally, slightly stunned. “Articulate.”

“I try. Step here.”

Draco slowly made his way up a flight of stone stairs, his grip on Potter tightening when his side started to ache. Potter matched his grip, pausing when Draco needed to stop. 

They reached the silent hospital wing, and Potter immediately sat Draco down on one of the beds before going to wake the nurse. None of the other beds were occupied, which Draco was grateful for. At least only one person had learned his secret tonight. 

_Or two,_ he thought darkly, remembering Pomfrey. _Because now I’ve run out of excuses for good._

The bed was soft against the broken and bloodied skin of his hands, and Draco carefully stripped off his ragged shirt, holding it against his side. It would help staunch the bleeding more than his hand, at least until Pomfrey arrived. His head hurt too, and everything looked fuzzy around the edges. Maybe it was only the dim light, but Draco wondered how long he’d been outside, if the pain could’ve affected his brain at all….

Potter hurried back into the room. “She’s on her way, she just-”

He stopped. He stared at Draco, scarred and exhausted, blotting at his wound as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You- you can lean back, you know. Lie down. If that’s more comfortable, of course." 

Was it Draco’s imagination, or was Potter _blushing_ a bit? 

"Never seen a half-naked boy, Potter?” Draco’s voice sounded funny in his ears. Everything seemed to be fading… He should’ve come here earlier….

“What? I wasn’t- You-”

And then Potter was studying him, face screwed up in concern.  

“Malfoy, are you-”

But Draco didn’t hear the rest of the question. His vision was already turning black, and he fell the rest of the way into bed. 

_“Madam Pomfrey! He’s collapsed!”_

-

Draco woke to the sound of clucking. 

“Should’ve come straight to me,” Pomfrey said, performing a last spell over a clean, white bandage on Draco’s side. “You could’ve gotten an infection with a scratch that deep.”

“Sorry.” Draco’s mouth was dry. “How- how long have I been out?”

“All through the last night and morning. It’s three o'clock now.” Pomfrey pulled a chair to Draco’s bedside and sat down, tugging the sheets back into place as she did. 

“I’ve had students in your situation before, Mister Malfoy. Werewolves. Fenrir Greyback originally did this, am I correct?”

Draco’s head snapped up. “Keep your voice down!” He hissed. 

Pomfrey waved her hand. “Silencing charms, dear. Not a word gets through.” She sighed. “Now, why don’t you tell me why I wasn’t informed of your condition when the year began?”

Draco tried to calm his heartbeat; he tried to focus on the question instead of contemplating what this meant.

“I was told not to.”

“By whom?”

“My father.”

Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “Your father. Of course.”

“I don’t need this spreading-”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. Like I said, I’ve been through this before. We’ll discuss the situation with the headmistress later, Mister Malfoy, but right now you’re going to rest.” Pomfrey stood up, pulling back the curtain surrounding Draco’s bed. 

Draco’s heart had slowed slightly. McGonagall didn’t know now, but she’d have to eventually. That was- that was alright. Draco knew he could convince her to keep it quiet; she seemed much more in touch with the students than Dumbledore anyway-

“Oh! You’ve got a visitor, Malfoy. Only a few minutes, mind you.”

Draco looked up, expecting to see the form of a fretting Pansy waiting by his bedside, and he nearly gasped when the person was different. 

Potter, with rumpled hair and shadows under his eyes, stood next to the bed, gaze flicking between the floor and Draco’s eyes. 

“Hey,” he said, gingerly sitting down in Pomfrey’s chair. “Wanted to see if you were alright after last night.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to respond. He still felt groggy, and the added sight of a tired Harry Potter, unshaven and hoarse, didn’t help his brain work. 

“Potter? You- oh, I- yes, alright, I’m doing fine. Fine, but Pomfrey said I should’ve come faster, but fine. Alright.” Draco could feel his face heat up. _“I’m alright!”_

_What. The. Hell._  

Potter just looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.  

“Articulate.”

And then he began to laugh, and, the sheer ridiculousness of sitting in a warm bed next to Potter smiling and laughing getting to him, Draco joined in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


End file.
